PotC: The Story of Captain Jack Sparrow
by Cassandra Cassidy
Summary: My first PotC fic. Gonna be a long one. Rated PG-13 for cussing; they're pirates, not gentlemen. ^_~ Delve into the past of everyone's favorite pirate...
1. Remembering

_Author's Notes__: Hi everyone! I decided to take a break from the YGO fandom, and have come to torment that of PotC.  *evil grin*_

_About this fic__: The format's going to be a bit odd.  I'm going to have a chapter that takes place in the present *like this one, for example*, followed by several chapters that take place in the past.  Please give me a bit of lee-way with this; it's the only way I could think of that would make it work.  So, that said…_

_Disclaimer__: "Pirates of the Carribean: The Curse of the Black _Pearl___", its characters, plot, etc. etc. do not belong to me… although I really wish they did. T . T_

_What to blame this on__: The prodding of my friends, MOVE, "Kiseki no Umi" by Sakamoto Maaya, my seeing PotC 5 times, Lord of the Dance music, Xenosaga, and my constant need to know the pasts of characters. *nods* …Oh. And nachos. Can't forget the nachos…_

_Dedication__: This is dedicated to Shelly Woo, who spoke to me and said, "Lizzi, you should write a PotC fic!"; to Aithne, for hounding me to write – "So, how's YOUR fic coming?!"; and finally, to Johnny Depp, for making his character so damn intriguing. ^ . ^;;;___

**Chapter 1: Remembering**

            It was a typical day in the Caribbean; the sun was high in the sky, the breeze from the sea was just right for keeping one cool, and the water shone a brilliant blue-green.  It was on days such as this that Captain Jack Sparrow loved his life.  He loved the steady rocking of the ship beneath his feet; he loved the way the sea's salty spray felt on his tanned face.  But most of all, he loved to get away - the ocean was his freedom, and there was no greater joy than freedom.

            "We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot, drink up me hearties, yo ho! We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot, drink up me hearties, yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me..."

            The man's voice soared over the crashing of the waves against the Black Pearl's hull, giving it a strangely distorted sound.  It was the most magnificent thing he'd ever heard.

            "We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack, drink up me hearties, yo ho! Maraud and embezzle and even highjack, drink up me hearties, yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me..."

            A second voice joined Jack's own, and he glanced over his shoulder.  Gibbs stood behind him, looking quite amused.  Jack flashed him a lopsided, gold-tinted grin, before the two continued together, "We kindle and char, inflame and ignite, drink up me hearties, yo ho! We burn up the city, we're really a fright, drink up me hearties, yo ho! We're rascals, scoundrels, villains and knaves, drink up me hearties, yo ho! We're devils and blacksheep; really bad eggs, drink up me hearties, yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me..."

            Jack paused, as if waiting for something, and Gibbs followed suit, looking at Jack inquisitively.  At Jack's nod, they finished the song, AnaMaria's soprano joining their makeshift chorus.  "We're beggars and blighters; ne'er do well cads, drink up me hearties, yo ho! Aye, but we're loved by our mommies 'n dads, drink up me hearties, yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!"

            This last, the trio shouted at the top of their voices, and the wind carried the song out to sea.

            "Really bad eggs, are we, Cap'n?" AnaMaria asked lightly, motioning to herself, Gibbs, and the rest of the crew.

            "Aye, the worst!" Jack replied, his brown eyes sparkling with mirth.  AnaMaria nodded approvingly, then sauntered off from whence she'd come.

            "You're certainly in a fine mood... are we almost to Tortuga, then?" Gibbs asked, stepping up next to Jack to peer at the horizon.

            "Aye," was the calm response.

            "We 'ave business there, or are we just going to re-supply?"

            The shorter man shrugged nonchalantly.  "We could stand to re-supply; let the crew rest up some. That storm left the Pearl a bit worse-for-wear; I don't want to take any unnecessary chances, savvy?"  Gibbs nodded, knowingly.  Jack continued, "Do me a favor? Go tell the lot to expect to reach port by sunset."

            Gibbs looked surprised.  "That soon already? I didn't notice we were that close. Aye, I'll tell 'em for ye."  Jack bowed appreciatively, and with a final nod, Gibbs made his way back to the main deck; Jack could hear him hollering the news to the crew.

            He sighed, softly, staring at the point where the sea met the sky.  He didn't quite feel right telling anyone - not even Gibbs - the true reason for his decision to stop at Tortuga.  What could he say?  'Many apologies, but I'm feeling a bit nostalgic after killing me once-best-friend.  We're stopping in Tortuga so I can end one chapter of me life and begin another.'  They wouldn't understand; no, it would be better to keep it to himself.

            He thought back on the song.  The last verse had always gotten to him for some reason, and he finally realized why.  'I wonder...' he thought to himself.  'What WOULD Mum think if she could see me now?  Her only child; a pirate.' He pictured the expression he thought she would have worn - if he were alone, he might have laughed aloud.  As it was, he merely grinned and shook his head.

            At that moment, he heard Gibbs's footfalls as the man reappeared at his side.

            "Ah've told them what ye said," he reported.  Jack nodded approvingly.

            "Tell me, were they happy to 'ere it?"

            "O'course they were!" Gibbs laughed.  "Lazy bunch, the lot of 'em! Nothin' on their minds now but what they're to do once we arrive."

            The two stood in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts.  Gibbs eventually cleared his throat; Jack glanced at him in question.

            "Eh, yer bein' awful quiet now, Cap'n," he pointed out.  "Somethin' the matter?"

            Jack shook his head.  "Nothing in need of worrying over," he replied.

            "Are ye certain, Jack? Ye've been up here all night and all day; aren't ye tired?"

            Now that Gibbs mentioned it... Jack nodded reluctantly.  "Only a little."  He would have laughed, but he was suddenly cut off by his own yawn.  Gibbs tried to hide his amusement.

            "Why don't ye let me take over at the helm and go rest until we arrive?" his friend offered, giving Jack a knowing look.

            "Alrigh', alrigh'..." Jack agreed, waving his hands in a dismissive gesture.  "I'll be in me quarters, then."  And with that, he swaggered off to his room.

            As he lay on his cot, listening to the waves slosh against the sides of the ship, his thoughts began to drift - again, to his mother - and his exhaustion soon won out against coherency as sleep overtook him.

~~~

_End notes__: I don't know how quickly I'll be updating… I have chapter 2 already written, but after that, the going may be a bit slow.  I do all my writing at night, and my sister and I are sharing a laptop at the moment, so I only get it once in a while.  So if you like, which I hope you do, review like mad and maybe I'll get it more often!!! ^_~V_


	2. Never Again

_Author's Notes__:  Okay, chapter 2.  This chapter takes place in the past, as I mentioned before._

_Thanks to all that reviewed… make me feel special, you do! ^_^_

_See chapter 1 for disclaimers, explanations, etc._

_See end of this chapter for translations of any foreign words._

**Chapter 2: Never Again**

            The village of Aurel was nothing if it wasn't homey.  The sights and sounds were enough to put anyone in a state of absolute bliss.  On any given day, one could hear children laughing; could smell flowers blooming; could feel the warmth of the sun on their face.  Yes, the tiny village was cozy and comfortable, and to the Romani people - it was home.  Every face was a familiar one, and every conversation was a friendly one.  After all, they had to stick together; the gypsies weren't well-thought-of among the British.

            One teenaged boy of the village was very little-known, however.  Fifteen years old, Marin was well on his way to adulthood, though he might as well already have reached it, given his childhood.  His father had died well before his time; Marin had been only three, then, and he didn't remember the man very well.  His mother was a beautiful woman by the name of Camelia.  She had raised him herself, and, when he was old enough, he did everything that his father once had.  He chopped wood, cared for the livestock, repaired the house, and did countless other things for his mother.  It was due to this that he barely had time for anything else.

            He had no friends that he had grown up with, nor anybody his age to talk to.  All he had was Camelia, and that suited him fine.

            And so it was that one bright afternoon, Marin finished his work earlier than usual, and had gone out to the meadow to pick flowers.  His mother adored them, and he always liked to surprise her now and again.  He hummed to himself as he worked.  He could swear he'd heard the song somewhere, but he couldn't remember where, nor could he recall whether or not there were words to go with the tune.  Once his woven basket was filled to the brim with blossoms, he started back toward the village.

            The meadow in which he had been was located about half an hour to the east of Aurel, over the crest of a large hill.  It wasn't until after Marin had climbed to the top of this hill that he realized something was terribly wrong.

            At first, he'd smelled the smoke, but he saw none, and guessed that it must have been closer to midday than he had thought.  He decided the villagers must be cooking, and thought of it no more.  But as he approached the hill, he knew that it wasn't a cooking fire that he smelled... it was an inferno.  He broke into a run, his mind racing.  'It can't be...'

            As he reached the crest of the hill, he stopped dead in his tracks.  The basket of flowers fell to the ground, forgotten.  Marin stared at the site before him, unable to believe what he was seeing.  A split second later, he was tearing down the hill at a full sprint, his heart pounding in his ears.  Aurel was being attacked... that was the only explanation: the British had discovered them, and now they were burning his home to the ground.

            He wasted no time rushing through the burning village.  He could hear the voices of the soldiers, shouting to each other whenever they found one of Marin's people - could hear his people screaming for mercy.  He kept on, however.  He had to reach his house in time. Out of all the thoughts rushing through his head, one took precidence over all others: "Daj..." he whispered; his blood ran cold at the thought of not getting to his mother in time.

            His small house came into view, and he nearly collapsed then and there.  The thatch roof was alight, the fence had been crushed, and one of the walls had collapsed.  The animals were missing; no doubt they were being brought back with the soldiers.  Marin refused to give up hope just yet, though, and with that in mind, he dashed inside, heedless of the danger.

            It didn't take long for him to find Camelia; she was right where he had left her.  Only now, instead of sitting at the kitchen table as she had been at the time, she was crushed beneath the collapsed wall.  It took all of Marin's willpower not to scream.

            "Daj," he whispered, kneeling on the floor beside her.  "Daj, why?" He wasn't expecting a reply, and he jumped when he recieved one.

            "...you must go..."

            Marin stared at his mother - hard.  Had he imagined it?  She couldn't be alive... could she?  "...Mother...?"

            "Marin... they mustn't find you here... you must go..."

            "But you're alive! I cannot just leave you here..."

            "My time... is over, Marin..."

            He grabbed her hand, desperately.  "You can't say that! I-I'll get you out of here, somehow... w-we'll escape..."

            "No, Marin."  He opened his mouth to protest.  "NO. You... must listen... there isn't much time..." she squeezed his hand, and he noticed something hard there.  "You must go... to the port... you must... leave this place as soon as you can... do not let them catch you..." she was struggling to breathe.  Camelia pressed the object she was holding into her son's hand.  "Take... this..." she said softly.  "I wanted... to wait... until you were... older... but..."

            Marin opened his hand and stared in shock at what she had given him.  What he beheld was a shining gold ring with an impossibly large emerald set into its band.  "Daj..."

            "I... love you... Marin... you are... a wonderful son..."  Marin tried to look at her through tear-filled eyes.

            "I love you too, Mother," he murmured, pressing his lips to the back of her hand, even as the soldiers' voices began to get louder.  They were checking the houses, Marin knew.  "Ashlen Devlese, Romale..." he told her, and her eyes drifted closed.  She was gone.

            He slipped the ring onto his right index finger, and stood.  He heard a crash as the roof of a nearby house caved in, and knew he was out of time.  With one last prayer for his mother, he turned and ran as fast as his legs would carry him; out the back door, through the smouldering ruins of Aurel, and out into the open moor.  At the top of the hill, he paused and turned.  He stood watching the hateful black smoke curl into the sky, and said one final goodbye to his - former - home.  And then he was off once more.

            Never again would he hear the children of the village laughing and playing.  Never again would he see those familiar faces.  And, he realized, a tear finally journeying down his face, never again would he see Camelia's eyes light up as he presented her with a gift of flowers.

            Never again.

~~~

_End Notes__: Phew!  Okay, time to clear up some confusion:_

_Romani__ = gypsies; I believe that they call themselves Romani.  They weren't very well-liked in __England__ during the 17th century, which is when the movie took place.  So I figure they were in hiding._

_Daj__ = Mother_

_Ashlen__ Devlese, Romale = may you remain with God_

_The above were taken from: www.miniclan.org/pathrell/romany_

_Camelia__ = Jack's mother's name – it's Romanian for "flower" from: www.20000-names.com/female_romanian_names_

_Marin = Jack's former name – it's Romanian for "from the sea" from: www.20000-names.com/male_romanian_names_

_Aurel__ = the gypsy village in my fic – it's Romanian for "golden" from: www.20000-names.com/male_romanian_names_

_I don't rightly know whether or not Romani people *I.E. gypsies* live in Romania… they're difficult to research, let me tell you._

_Yes, I made Jack a gypsy. *grins* Think about it; all the beads and braids in his hair, the way he dresses with the sash around his head and his waist… he dresses very gypsy-ish, according to what I read at: westwood.fortunecity.com/armani/208/costume_

_Questions?__ Comments? Death threats? *snicker* Leave 'em in your review!  Flames will be saved and used as public entertainment._


	3. Life After Death

_Author's Notes__:  Okay, chapter 3.  This chapter takes place in the past, as well.  A continuation of chapter 2, if you will._

**Chapter 3: Life After Death**

The port was busy upon Marin's arrival.  It was only shortly after midday, and the people of the city were hard at work.

            'It would be terribly easy to get lost in the crowd here,' he mused, surveying the bustling scene before him.  It wasn't difficult to tell where he needed to go; he had to get as far from Aurel as he could, and the best way to do so would be to sneak onboard the next ship out of port.  Looking out toward the docks, he could make out the figures of many men, walking up and down the gangplank with crates and barrels filled with cargo.

            'That's the one,' he thought to himself, nodding slightly for his own benefit.  And with that in mind, he slipped, unnoticed, into the throng and headed for the ship that had claimed his attention.

            When finally he had reached the appropriate dock, he paused to consider how he would get onboard.  His best bet would be to slip in among the cargo being loaded, and to sneak inside the ship as soon as he got a clear opening.  However, he would never see his plan put into action, for it was at that moment that one of the sailors caught sight of him, crouching behind one of the dock-posts.

            "'Ey! You there!" the sailor shouted, dashing toward Marin.  The accused held very still, praying that it wasn't he that was being addressed.  Unfortunately, the sailor had other plans, apparently, because now he was motioning his comrade over, and the index finger of his other hand was being used to point to a now-alarmed Marin.

            "You... yeah, you, kid! C'mon out here where we can see you!" the man hollered, and Marin complied slowly, stepping out from his hiding spot.  By now, the man's comrade had appeared.

            "What've we here?" the second man asked, raising an eyebrow.

            "This kid was hiding over at the end of the dock!" the first responded.  He sounded outraged.

            "I can see that," the second groaned, before turning to Marin.  "What's your business here, kid? You shouldn't be wandering around underfoot; it's dangerous!"

            Marin squared his shoulders and tried to look as much like an adult as he could manage.  "All right," he said, his eyes narrowed in what he hoped was a threatening manner, "I'll tell you.  I was waiting, there, for an opening that would allow me to sneak onboard your ship so that I might stowaway in the cargo hold until the ship reaches its destination, where, upon arrival, I will change my name and make a new life for myself someplace where nobody knows who I truly am."

            The two men looked at him, then at each other, and then at him again.  He could tell that his explanation had confused them, and he was about to try a different one when the first sailor cut him off.

            "You're one strange kid, kid," he said, shaking his head.

            "Must be daft," the second said, more to his friend than to Marin.  "Get on out of here boy; this is no place for someone like you to be gallivanting about as if you own the place. Go home."  And without another word, the two sailors departed back to their duties.

            Marin stared after them, dumbfounded.  'They just... let me off, after I told them that I was planning on sneaking onboard their ship?' he wondered.  He didn't have long to ponder, though, for the cargo was nearly loaded, and it was now or never.  With a quick glance at his mother's ring, he gained the courage he needed, and when the men's backs were turned, he ducked into the hold.  As he hunkered down between two crates, he heard the sailors closing the door.  'This is it...' he thought, trying to find a reasonably comfortable position to sit in.

            As the ship left port and began its journey, the toll of the morning's events began to wear on him, and he felt exhaustion set in, and he let out a tremendous yawn; his eyes drooped closed and he rested his chin against his chest.  Had he known that the ship he had chosen to sneak upon was headed on a month-long voyage to the Caribbean, he may have thought twice about hopping onboard. As it was, however, he fell quickly asleep among the ships' cargo, completely unaware of where the ship was going, nor what fate had in store for him.****

~~~

_End Notes__:  If anyone cares to correct me on the length of time it takes to go between __Britain__ and the __Caribbean__, feel free.  XP  __Please_ R&R!!!__

_Oh, and Aithne…? ARE YOU QUITE HAPPY NOW?!?! I'LL BE IN MY QUARTERS! *stalks off*_


	4. A Change of Plans

_Author's Notes__: Thanks to all who've reviewed; I appreciate it a lot more than I let on! ^_^;;;_

_Chapter 4's past again. Good times… I hope…_

**Chapter 4: A Change of Plans**

            Marin woke with a start, and almost screamed.  'Where am I…?' he wondered, frantically looking around at his surroundings.  It was dark – obviously nighttime – but he could just make out the shapes of the crates and barrels around him, and immediately, everything that had transpired came rushing back.  His village was gone, and he was hiding away in the hold of a cargo ship.

            He sat for a moment more before his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since that morning... in Aurel... with his mother...

            He shut his eyes tightly and clenched his fists.  He could not think about that, now.  He had to focus on escaping.  He had to focus on SURVIVING...

            His stomach rumbled again, and he winced, wondering how long he had been sleeping in the hold.  Or, for that matter, how much longer he would be there.  'Wait a minute...'  Marin nearly laughed aloud; he was in the hold of a CARGO ship!  Surely one of these containers stored food?  He jumped to his feet, preparing to find himself the makings of a decent meal, when the ship gave a sudden lurch, sending him toppling to the floor.  As he rubbed his arm where he had landed on it, he could hear what sounded like a cannon firing.  'What's going on...?'  The ship lurched again, and he could hear feet pounding the deck above his head.

            He stood again, more cautiously this time, and made his way over to what was, in his mind, a promising-looking barrel, when he heard voices approaching, and footfalls on the stairs.

            "Take as much as ye can carry!  We'll be needing the lot if we can get it..." one of the voices said.

            Marin's eyes widened as the door banged open, and he ducked quickly to avoid being seen.  From his hiding spot, he peeked out and saw four men; four very angry-looking men, each of which was carrying a sword.

            'Pirates!' Marin realized with a start.  'The ship is being looted by pirates!'  The men began hefting the crates closest to the door, hauling them up the stairs, presumably to their ship.  When the door was open, Marin could hear the clashing of metal-on-metal that indicated a brawl on the main deck.  'I've no manner of luck at all...' he thought bitterly, pressing his thin form as far into his hiding place as he could.  The pirates - he was certain that they were pirates - were drawing closer to him with every passing moment, and he held his breath as one lifted the barrel he had been about to break into, praying he wouldn't be seen.

            It was not to be so.

            The man caught sight of Marin and grinned a terrible, yellow-toothed grin.  "What do we 'ave here?  Morrison, come 'ere and get a look at this, eh?"  A second man, which Marin assumed must be Morrison, approached.  He, too, grinned devilishly.

            "A kid," he stated gruffly.  "Y'think he belongs to the cap'n o' this ship?"

            "Aye, I don't doubt it.  They prob'ly tossed him down here when the fightin' started up--"

            "And what do the two of you think ye're doin' o'er here?" came a third voice.  The two men spun around.

            "Cap'n Harundo!" they cried in unison.

            "I din't bring ye along so ye could stand around and chit-chat, ye lazy dogs!"

            "But Cap'n! Harbridge here found a kid hiding behind this barrel," the one called Morrison said.

            "Did he, now?" Captain Harundo raised an eyebrow at them, and motioned them aside.  Spying Marin, who was still sitting motionless in the corner, he let out a deep-throated laugh.  "Well, well, well..." he smirked at the boy.  Before Marin could blink, the cold steel of the pirate captain's sword was pressed against his throat.  He was alarmed to see that the sword was covered in blood.

            "And who might ye be, boy?  Son of the captain, or," he gave the boy a once-over and raised an eyebrow skeptically, "a stowaway, I'd wager, consid'rin' your manner of dress."  Marin remained stubbornly silent, glaring up at the man.  The man chuckled.

            "Don't want to speak, eh? Well, we can remedy that, can't we, men?" at this, he glanced over his shoulder at the first two.  "Take the boy; lock him in the brig.  We'll see how long he decides to stay quiet."

            And with that, Morrison and Harbridge grabbed Marin roughly by the arms and hauled him out onto the dock.  The sight that met the boy's eyes made him want to retch.

            There were bloodied bodies strewn everywhere; it was obvious that the pirates hadn't thought twice about what they were doing - it was a clean sweep.  All of the sailors that Marin had seen board the ship were dead, lying upon the deck, drenched in blood, their eyes staring lifelessly after him as he was dragged aboard the pirates' ship.  Once there, they wasted no time in bringing Marin to the bowels of the ship.

            "Here ye go, runt.  A nice room all to ye're self!" Harbridge laughed heartily at him, shoving him none-too-gently into the barred room.

            "Rest up, kid.  The Cap'n's going to want a word with ye, to be certain."  He could hear their guffaws all the way up to the top deck.

            Sighing deeply and cursing his misfortune, Marin wandered over to sit beneath the window.  The sea breeze was cool on his face, and he closed his eyes, wishing that this was some terrible nightmare and that he would wake up soon, safe and warm in his home in Aurel.  But he knew it was no use.

            "There IS no Aurel." he told himself firmly.  "My mother is dead, and the village was burned to the ground. I am... the only survivor..." he felt his eyes start to burn, and he rubbed at them furiously.  Saying the words outloud somehow made it too final.  He felt his heart ache as he took the emerald ring his mother had given him and clutched it to his chest.  It was all he had left.  It was all there WAS left...

            As he curled up against the wall of the cell, he could no longer contain his grief.  And so, for the first time since as far back as he could remember, Marin wept.

_End Notes__: Aaaaangst.  My favorite ^_~.  Please, as always, R&R!  Constructive criticism is welcomed; flames will be used to burn my summer reading homework.  I go back to school in 3 days; that's incentive for me to write like mad *because I'll be putting off my homework*. *grins*  Till next chapter, then!****_


	5. A New Identity

_Author's Notes: Past again.  We'll get back to the present in a bit; the fic is mostly in the past though.  We meet another main movie character in this part. ^_^_

_  
Again, see the end notes for translations, etc._

_Disclaimer's in chapter one._

**Chapter 5: A New Identity**

            Marin wept for what seemed like a small eternity, and when he was through, he felt physically and emotionally drained.  He sat, curled against the wall of the brig, shivering terribly and clutching his ring tightly.  Looking out the small window, it became apparent that it was nearly dawn.  He could see that they were still beside the cargo ship; the British flag flapped in the ocean breeze, seeming far too cheerful for Marin's liking.

He turned away from the visage, choosing, instead, to study the ring his mother had given him.  It was a very beautiful ring, if you looked closely enough.  The band was plain, brightly-polished gold with a large emerald set into it – that much he'd already determined.  However, upon closer inspection he could see that there was an engraving of a bird in flight surrounding the emerald; a sparrow, to be exact.  He slipped the ring back onto his finger.

He sat, deep in thought, for several moments before his feelings went from sad to bitter.

            "Let's go over the events of the last few days," he grumbled to himself angrily.  "First, I come home to find my village up in flames and my mother dying. Then, I narrowly avoid being caught by the sailors in port upon my arrival.  And now, I'm locked in the brig of a pirate ship, because they mistook me for the son of the cargo ship's Captain!"

            "By the sounds of it, you're not 'aving a very good time, mate."

            Marin's head shot up at the sound of the voice, but he could see no-one in the darkness.  Unable to think of anything rational to say in reply, he stammered, "W-who's there?!"  'Raklo…' he thought, narrowing his eyes in suspicion… and quickly realized that, of course the person would be a raklo; he was on a – presumably – British ship.

            There was a slight scuffling noise before a figure appeared in Marin's short line of vision.  He had to look up a bit to get a glimpse of the young man's face; tanned and angular, the face was framed by shoulder-length, mousy brown hair that looked to have seen better days.  The boy's eyes were bright blue and, at the moment, were locked in a staring match with Marin's own brown eyes.  Marin scooted backward in the cell, intent on ignoring this stranger, and leveled the other with a glare.

            The blue-eyed boy scowled right back, and Marin could tell he was sizing him up.  'I must look a right mess by now,' he thought bitterly.  He supposed his face was probably red from crying; his features were still a bit childish, and he knew the boy staring at him must think him a baby.  His plaited hair hadn't been brushed since the incident in Aurel, and was beginning to get a bit matted.  The beads, once vibrantly-colored, had dulled with the dirt of several days.  His shirt, vest, and trousers were tattered and grimy.  'Yes,' he thought, scowling. 'A right mess indeed.'

            The brig's other occupant seemed to think the scowl was directed at him, for he sounded irritated when he next spoke.  "You 'ave a problem with other people, kid?  Not bein' very social."

            Marin, again, kept his mouth shut, bound and determined not to let these people get the best of him.

            "C'mon now, mate. I know bloody well ye're capable of speaking," the boy chided.  "I'm not gonna hurt ye, if that's what ye're worried about."

            "I'm NOT your 'mate'," Marin stated fiercely, giving the other his best glower.

            To his surprise, the boy only laughed.  "Aye, I suppose ye're not.  We haven't even had a proper introduction," he agreed, blue eyes sparkling with amusement.  When Marin only blinked at him, he cleared his throat and continued.  "Me name's Barbossa," he said, motioning to himself, "and I work on this ship under Cap'n Harundo – ye've met him already, I gather?"  Marin nodded absently.  "He's a good cap'n, boy.  He won't hurt ye unless ye give him reason to."

            There was a small pause; Marin was watching Barbossa carefully, searching his face for a hint that he could be lying, but he found none, and so he nodded again.

            "So," Barbossa said, sitting down and scrutinizing Marin once more, "Ye 'ave a name, or do I 'ave to keep calling you 'kid'?"

            Marin froze.  'I can't tell him my real name; he might know it isn't English…' He looked around the brig, searching for something – ANYTHING – to use as an alias.  His eyes fell upon the flag out the tiny window.  'Union Jack…' he thought.  It was better than nothing.

            "It's… Jack," he said uncertainly.  Then he got an idea.  Glancing quickly down at his ring, he coughed slightly and added, "…Sparrow."  Barbossa raised an eyebrow.

            "Well which is it?" he asked, misunderstanding.

            "Both," Marin said quickly.  "My name is Jack Sparrow."  He bowed his head slightly.

            "Right then, Jack," Barbossa said, grinning. "Cap'n will prob'ly be wanting a word with ye soon; I'll leave ye to ye're musings till then."  At this, he flashed Marin – Jack – a lopsided grin and sauntered out of the brig.

            'So that's it, then,' he thought to himself.  'I'm not Marin anymore. From now on, I'm Jack Sparrow.  Marin died with the rest of his people.'

            Now all he could do was wait.

_End Notes: Raklo is Romani for 'a non-Romani boy'.  Same website as the other words *can't remember the URL off the top of my head*._

_So, Jack Sparrow is born!  Before you all start shouting, "CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW!" let's consider this: he's not a captain YET.  Capice?  He will be, eventually. ^_~ So don't worry about that._

_Somebody let me know if I got Barbossa's eye color wrong… I couldn't find anyplace that said. ^^_;;;__

_Please R&R, as always! ^_^_


	6. Questions and Answers

_Author's Notes: Okay, okay, I'm sorry. It took too long for me to update… again. Whatever; school is mad-annoying. Essays, essays… more essays…somebody shoot me. Blah._

_I was going to make this a double-update with chapter 7, but I need to finish 8 first. If anyone can tell me what Will meant when he said "the rules of engagement", I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd share the wealth; I need it for chapter 8._

_Anyway, hope you all enjoy this chapter; sorry it took so long. I'm trying; I really am._

_For disclaimer, see chapter 1.  "Yo ho" *the song*  doesn't belong to me either, for the record. Captain Harundo, his two lackeys from last chapter, and the two sailors at the docks in some other chapter all belong to me, also for the record. Ignore me; I suck at disclaimers._

_Happy reading.___

**Chapter 6: Questions and Answers**

            "So, boy, how about giving me a name?"

            Jack stood on the deck of the pirate ship, now sailing full-speed away from the ruins of the cargo freighter.  He was doing his best to keep from looking nervous in front of the pirate captain.  If he was going to gain any sort of respect from this man, he was going to have to be very careful about his actions; this he knew.  And so, he ignored the ache of his stomach, tuned-out the jeers of the other pirates, and focused fully on the captain's eyes.

            "My name is Jack Sparrow," he replied, his voice calm and firm.

            He saw Barbossa among the others – the fellow teen was watching him carefully.  He could tell that Barbossa was the only crew member his age; the rest looked to be in their late 20s or early 30s.  The older pirates were making the questioning very difficult.

            "Make 'im walk the plank!" one hollered.

            "We should give the whelp a good keelhauling," another suggested above the din.

            "What were ye doing in that cargo hold, Jack Sparrow?"

            Jack snapped back to attention as the captain addressed him once more.  At the question, he hesitated.  'The truth worked well enough with those sailors,' he considered.  He breathed deeply, pushed down his uneasiness, and responded, "I was a stowaway."

            "And what would a young man such as yourself be doing stowed-away in that hold?"

            "I was hoping to find a new place to live, wherever the ship was headed." The pirates laughed at this, but Jack held his ground.

            "Oh, what's the matter, boy?" a voice called from the small crowd.  "Yer parents up and die on ye?" There was another chorus of raucous laughter from the group.

            Jack felt a rather foreign emotion, then – rage.  It surged through him, hot like molten fire.  A frigid wind whipped around the ship's deck; he could hear the beads and coins in his hair clinking together, but the familiar sound brought him no comfort.  He clenched his fists and, when next he spoke, his voice shook with barely-suppressed anger.

            "Yes. My parents are dead, and I was left with no home." His eyes glared around the group, challenging them to retort with some snide comment.

            The captain held up his hand for silence, then looked Jack square in the eye.

            "Nobody's trying to attack ye, for now, lad.  I only wondered, because that ship was headed straight for the Caribbean.  Do you know how long a trip like that would take?"  Jack shook his head, unwilling to speak.  "About 4 months, under favorable conditions."  Jack felt his cheeks burn.  He would have starved to death long before they'd arrived.

            "Now," the captain continued, beginning to pace across the deck, "we have to decide what to do with ye."  At this, the shouts began again; everyone seemed to have a different way they'd like to see him die.  At Harundo's glare, however, they promptly quieted down.  Jack watched him pace for what seemed like forever.  Then, finally, the captain spoke.

            "I'm going to give ye two choices, boy," he said, coming to a stop in front of him.  "You can either walk the plank…" he paused, silencing the crew again, "…OR, you can join me crew."  This proclamation was followed by furious cries from all around, and, despite himself, Jack seriously began to think the plank was the better option.  He glanced over the ship's side; watched the waves churning below, and felt a lump form in his throat.  He faced forward again, and Barbossa suddenly caught his eye.  The older teen looked at him seriously, glanced over to where Jack had been looking, and turned back to Jack.  Jack cocked his head to one side in silent question.  Barbossa mouthed something at him.  'Join.'  Jack could see a desperate look in the older boy's eyes.  'Why?' he mouthed back.  'Please.'  Jack frowned at him, then suddenly, it dawned on him:

            Barbossa was looking for him to join the crew so that there would be someone else his age around.

            Jack hadn't thought of that before; he had never really had time to spend time with anyone in his age group, and he realized immediately that he truly wanted to.  He gave Barbossa a slight, barely perceptible nod, and was stunned by the look of sincere gratitude that he received in return.  He took another deep breath.  This was it; regardless of consequence, he was going to join the pirates.  His mother had told him to live, after all…

            "I've made my decision," he said, his voice loud and clear over the others.

            "And what have ye decided?" Harundo asked.

            "I've decided that… I'm going to join your crew… Captain." He placed his hands together and gave the older man a small bow of respect.  Harundo smirked.

            "A wise choice, I assure ye," he commented calmly.  Then, "Barbossa?!"  Said teen appeared at the man's side.

  
            "Aye, Cap'n?"

            "I need ye to show our new mate the ropes; make sure he knows what has to be done and how to do it."

            "Aye!" Barbossa said, nodding.  Then, to Jack, he added, "Follow me," and he started off toward the cabins.  As Jack hurried after him, he could hear the captain – HIS captain, now – barking orders at the rest of the crew.

            'So this is to be my new life,' he thought.  Half of him was distraught; he would never have thought of joining a pirate crew before!  But the other half of him was excited.  This had the potential to be a great experience for him, if he was willing to stay alert and learn from this group of individuals.

            He saw that Barbossa had stopped to allow him time to catch up, and dashed quickly over to him.

            "Alrigh' Jack, are ye ready for lesson one?" Barbossa asked him.  Jack nodded, and Barbossa thrust a bucket and scrub brush into the younger boy's arms.  "Ye ever scrubbed a floor before?"  Jack nodded again.  Barbossa motioned around the deck.  "Well, there's yer floor," he said, grinning at Jack's crestfallen look.  The deck suddenly seemed enormous.  The older boy grabbed a second bucket and smirked, clapping Jack roughly on the shoulder.  "Welcome aboard, mate," he said, blue eyes twinkling.  "I'll take the starboard side; you take port."  And with one more pat on the shoulder, Barbossa started off toward his side of the ship.

            Jack breathed in the salty smell of the sea, let the wind ruffle his braided hair, and then set to work as well.  He hummed to himself; the same wordless song he'd hummed earlier.  He began to put his own words to it, despite himself.  "da da da da da da da da da da dum… a pirate's life for me…"

_End Notes:  So there you have it… I know Jack didn't really invent that song, but that's okay, because in my fic, he did. *smirk* Writer's license… or something._

_Whoo__ hoo! Jack's a pirate now. What a switch, naa? Gypsy-to-pirate. Good times. I need to go sleep now. Hope you all enjoyed._

_Please R comments, criticism, arguments, advice, helpful historical info, etc. always appreciated._


	7. New Beginnings

_Author's Notes:  Grrrrrrr…school should be condemned to the ninth circle of hell, with the betrayers and mutineers. Stupid school. Keeping me away from this fic, which I have such high hopes for. Grrrrrrrrr…_

_ANYWAY! Chapter 7. Finally. I'm TRYING to write chapter 8 as we speak. Not going so well, but it's… going. Kind of. Bear with me, I'm not keeping on top of this as well as I wish I could. It's my junior year, and as such, I haven't got a whole crudload of free time of late. Midterms, don'tchaknow._

**_DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to Rachel (Aithne on ff.net) and her boyfriend; I'm glad you're both okay, and I hope that you STAY okay! No more car-stunts! *hug*luff*glomp*_**

_And now…__ IT'S STORYTIME!!! On Halloween, I (tried to) dress like Jack Sparrow, right? Get all beaded and braided and pirate-i-fied and what have you… go trick-or-treating. Go to this one lady's house. Kchan points to me and asks the lady, "Who do you think my friend is trying to be?" The lady considers and then says, tentatively, "A gypsy?"_

_  
Huzzah, I say! Huzzah! The above really did happen, and I was/am so HAPPY! My theory is well-founded! HA!_

_That said, I think we can move on to bigger and (hopefully!) better things:_

**Chapter 7: New Beginnings**

            In the span of three months, Jack had quickly learned the ways of the pirates with which he now lived, ate, drank, and worked.  He and Barbossa made fast friends, and Barbossa taught the younger teen all he knew about the ship, which, Jack learned right off, had no name.  When he had asked about it, Barbossa had merely shrugged and told him that "the cap'n has more important matters to deal with than givin' a name to 'is ship, mate."  He hadn't volunteered any more than that, so Jack let the matter drop.

            It soon became apparent that Jack was a quick study, and the captain ordered the older crew members to teach him some of the more difficult tasks.  Soon after, he was climbing and swinging about the rigging with the rest of them.  And while they all loved to tease him about his age, it was clear that they had accepted him into their make-shift family.

During his first month aboard, Barbossa had shown him a companionship that he had never known.  He was always around to show Jack what to do, and he'd even taken the blame for a few of Jack's botches.  Jack was stunned; he had never had a friend before, and suddenly there was an entire group of people that CARED about him.  Barbossa, especially, surprised him.  He hadn't expected the older teen to be so fond of him; he'd seen Jack in his moment of weakness.  Despite that, Barbossa never spoke a word about it, and for that, Jack was grateful.  Jack and Barbossa were closer than friends; by that third month – they were brothers.

The crew had taken quick note that the newcomer posed no sort of threat to them. He was very… strange.  That was the only word they had to describe him with.  One minute, he would be hyperactive as anything; the next, it seemed he had reached an all-time low.  It was during these latter moments that Jack would draw into himself, not letting any of them know what he was about.  It was almost as if he had never been socialized as a child, they decided amongst themselves.  They laughed it off, however, deciding the kid must simply have had too much sun and that it was affecting his mental stability.

Barbossa wasn't one to question his new friend; if the boy wanted him to know of his past, he would tell him.  He took the boy's mood swings in stride, and took Jack himself under his wing.

The first important thing Jack learned in his time with the pirates was how to hide what he was truly feeling.  The crew taught him the importance of secrecy; a pirate had to know how to be cunning, they told him.  A pirate couldn't be afraid to do something that was best for them, even if it was at the cost of others.  They taught him to lie without letting on that he was being false.  They taught him to steal; to go undetected.  They taught him to load, aim, and fire a gun, although they noticed his reluctance to learn those particular skills.  As the fourth month began, Barbossa began teaching Jack about swordfighting.  The boy had reacted rather unusually, Barbossa thought, to the prospect of learning to duel.  Most his age would die for a chance to wield a sword.  However, Jack seemed merely to… accept it.  As if it was something he had to do.  And so, Jack agreed.

"Now, mind, there're RULES to follow in a formal duel, but yer a pirate," Barbossa winked, "so we'll call 'em guidelines, and disregard them for now."  Jack smirked.

"In other words, you don't know them, so you can't very well teach them to me."  Barbossa snorted, but disregarded the comment.

"When are ye going to start talkin' like a pirate, Jack?" he asked instead.  "Ye still sound like a stuffy old blighter," he added, blue eyes glinting as he playfully punched his younger counterpart in the shoulder.  Jack sighed, shaking his head.

"I don't know, Barbossa… this is just the way I've always spoken…" he trailed off, and Barbossa was startled as he noticed the sudden change in the other's demeanor that indicated he was having one of THOSE moments.  The boy seemed to have retreated into the recesses of his own mind, as if trying to block something out.  He was just beginning to wonder if he should say anything, when the boy blinked, the focus returning to his eyes, and looked up at him.  "Sorry…" he mumbled, looking a bit embarrassed.  Barbossa just shook his head.

'I have to stop speaking in the manner I was taught,' Jack chastised himself, 'if I'm going to pursue this path, I have to learn to play the part...'  His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Barbossa's voice.

"Here," Barbossa said gruffly, tossing a sheathed sword at his younger companion.  Jack caught it deftly, and immediately set to work imitating the way Barbossa had his own sword.  Barbossa watched in bemused silence as the smaller boy clasped the thick belt around his thin waist.  The boy glanced at him for a split second before unclasping the belt, readjusting it, and clasping it again.  'He really is a bright kid,' he thought to himself.  Jack was tightening the belt, now.  Barbossa raised an eyebrow.  'Too thin, though. We need to start feeding him more.'  Finally, Jack looked up, straight at him, and Barbossa was pleased to note that he had the sword within perfect reach of his right hand, and was waiting patiently for further instruction.

"Don't know what I'm going to do with ye, Jack… I jus' don't know."  Jack only grinned.  "All right, then! First thing ye gotta learn is how to draw your weapon, and you 'ave to do it fast, you understand me?" Jack nodded, and Barbossa noticed the serious look he'd adopted; he always seemed to have that look when he was learning something new.  'Attentive kid… no wonder he's bright.'  Barbossa smirked, and with a flourish, drew his weapon and held it up in challenge.  "Your turn, Jack."

Jack had watched the movements of Barbossa's arm.  He noted that he hadn't tried to pull the sword out of the sheath vertically; he had kept it at an angle so as not to let the sword stick in the sheath.  He nodded once, then reached across himself to his left side, grasped the hilt of the sword, and pulled.  With the sound of scraping metal, the blade was drawn, and Jack imitated Barbossa's stance, holding the sword in a defensive position.

Barbossa nodded once, then, before Jack could think to move, Barbossa's blade was at his throat.  Jack stared at him, wide-eyed and startled, and Barbossa stared right back.  After a few moments, he removed the blade, and the younger boy let out the breath he'd been holding.

"Ye're going to 'ave to be quicker than that, Jack; you'd've had your 'ead lobbed off in a real fight," the older boy commented dryly.  Jack scowled.

"That's why you're supposed to be TEACHING me!" he responded indignantly.  Jack forced a childish pout, and Barbossa couldn't help but laugh.  No sooner had he begun, however, when his laughter abruptly ceased; the blade at his throat made laughing rather uncomfortable.

"Is this how?" Jack asked, holding the sword steadily at his friend's neck.  Barbossa smiled very slightly.

"Ye're learning, mate… ye're learning."

Jack pulled the sword away silently and stepped backward; Barbossa rubbed at his throat absently.

"Going to have to teach ye to strike," he muttered.  "Get back in that stance o' yourn," he added.  Jack complied, then waited expectantly.

~*~*~

Over the course of the next few days, between shipboard tasks, eating, and sleeping, Barbossa went over vertical and horizontal strikes, thrusts, parries, and sidesteps.  Jack was, admittedly, the fastest-learner Barbossa had ever known.  He seemed bound and determined to keep up with Barbossa's teaching, rigorous as it was. Halfway through the second week, though, Barbossa noted that Jack, while having improved greatly, was beginning to tire.  A week and a half straight, he'd been teaching the boy to fight, and only now was he showing signs that he was worn out.

"You want to quit for the day, mate?" he asked between advances.  Jack was visibly struggling to keep up.  Since that first trick he'd pulled, he had yet to defeat Barbossa in a duel.  Now, it seemed like an obsession for Jack to best the other.

"I'm… fine…" he huffed, barely dodging Barbossa's assault.

"What makes ye think you'll beat me, boy?" he teased.  "Ye've been tryin' all week--"

"Because I'm Jack Sparrow!" Jack cut in angrily, as if trying to convince himself of something.  The statement seemed to draw out some hidden reserve of strength, because it was then that Jack pinned Barbossa, his eyes alight with determination.

The two stayed perfectly still for several minutes, Jack's blade to Barbossa's throat.  Both were out of breath from the sparring, but Jack managed to choke something out between gasps that would stick with Barbossa for the rest of his years.

"Because… I'm Jack Sparrow… savvy?"

"Yeah," Barbossa murmured, perplexed.  "Yeah… I savvy."

_End Notes: You like? You no like? We now have the origins of savvy, and proof that Barbossa will never live it down. *cackles maniacally* Next chapter, they'll land in __Tortuga_. I have happy (i.e. morbid) plans for it, but they're all jumbled up and I'm in the process of trying to sort them out. Give me time, people. For those of you who are still with me, I really appreciate it. ^_^_V __Makes me feel special._

_Please R&R and lemme know what you think!_


	8. Of Thieving, Trickery, and Tortuga

_Author's Notes: Chapter 8, finally out. Meet another well-known character this chapter, but not one who was in the movie. ^^ You'll see…_

_Many thanks to ErinRua and Alex for responding to my plea for information on the Rules of Engagement; it has helped me to decide what role I want the aforementioned introduced-character to play in Jack's life, not to mention taught me something I didn't know. ^^ ErinRua:  as for ignoring you – doubtful; methinks I'll probably go back and edit this fic eventually, and I'll make sure to change the "minutes" bit in chapter 7.  Thanks for the constructive criticism! (And for listing me on your site; honored, I am!_

* . *__

_All my other reviewers:  
A. thanks for sticking around waiting for my updates_

_B. thanks for all the kind comments and_

_C. I hope you all continue to enjoy the fic!_

_I'm a bit of a nut about keeping as much of this fic true to not only the movie, but also real-life in the 17th century. Thus the researching of gypsies and pirates alike (keelhauling… *giggles madly* .), and the search for voyage length, sword fighting terminology (as I know next to nothing about the subject myself), etc. etc. I like to hope that I'm keeping this as historically-accurate as possible._

_If anyone's got suggestions about characterization, help with making the accents sound realistic, or anything else, I'm always  glad to hear it._

_And finally:_

_Dedication: Actually, the reason I absolutely FORCED myself to write this chapter is because I wanted it out in time for a holiday-update/Hanukkah present for Aithne (*hug*luff* me matey!), so: HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE, hope you enjoy:_

**Chapter 8: Of Theiving, Trickery, and ****Tortuga******

"Land, ho!"

The look-out's cry rang out above Jack's head, and he whipped around, braids flying, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the setting sun as he scoured the horizon.  There!  The thin line of an island had appeared over the edge of the water.  It seemed to rise from the depths of the sea like a dark sun – a semicircle in the distance, black but for those tiny dots of light that managed to cast their light far enough to be seen by the weary travelers.  Cheers erupted amongst the crew members at the announcement, and Jack felt rather than saw Barbossa appear at his side; he, too, looked out at the island, dark against a sky of flames.  The elder teen let out a wistful sigh.

"Tortuga," he murmured, and Jack cast him a sideways glance.

"Tortuga…?" he questioned.  Barbossa nodded.

"Tortuga," he repeated.  "Our home away from home."  At this second 'home', he motioned around the ship, and Jack understood in silence. The two stood for a time, watching the island's steady approach, and Barbossa placed his hand absently on Jack's shoulder.

"When we get there," he said pointedly, "Ah've got someone I want ye to meet."

"What kinda 'someone'?" Jack asked, lapsing into the speech that he had slowly been picking up.  Shifting slightly, he looked up at his friend.  Barbossa smirked and tossled Jack's hair; Jack swatted his hand away with an aggravated snort, and Barbossa laughed.

"'aven't I e're told ye about me bonny lass, Jack?" he asked, grinning broadly, traces of his laughter still evident in his eyes.  Jack blinked at him.

"You 'ave a girl waiting for you on that island?" Jack asked incredulously.  It was Barbossa's turn to scoff.

"Don't act so surprised," he retorted indignantly.  A moment later, "S'matter of fact, I do," he put in.  At Jack's wide-eyed stare, he continued, "Her name's Mela.  Italian lass – beautiful too…" he sighed, and Jack noted a slightly glazed-look had fallen over the other's blue eyes.  He grinned, despite himself.

"Y'going to marry her?" he teased.  Barbossa snapped out of his funk and shoved the smaller boy away with a sound of disgust.

"What a question to ask! Like I'd tell ye if I was…"

"You're gettin' soft on me!" Jack cried in mock-horror.  Barbossa opened his mouth as if to retort, but instead merely shrugged and turned back towards the horizon, and he grinned broadly.  "We're here."

Jack followed Barbossa's gaze across the water; the details of the island were becoming visible now.  Jack could make out the shapes of what could either be houses, shops, or taverns; he couldn't tell from the distance.  However, considering it was a pirate hang-out… he chuckled to himself.  As if in reply, a wave of raucous laughter traveled over the water to the ship.

~*~*~

            When Jack stepped onto dry-land for the first time in months, he was completely unprepared for the adjustment.  As he pitched forward, he felt someone grab him by the back of his shirt, hauling him unsteadily-upright.  Jack glanced back just in time to see Captain Harundo smirking down at him from beneath the brim of his tricorn hat.

            "Goin' tuh 'ave tuh get used t'that, Sparrow," the man chided, "else ye'll be collapsin' ev'ry time we come t'port."  With that, the captain turned and bellowed to the rest of the crew.  "Alright ye slack-jawed bilgerats! Don' jes stand there; off the ship with ye! There's ladies and rum t'be had!"

Then the captain, secure in the knowledge that Jack could stand on his own, swaggered off into the town, his crew whooping and hollering and following after him.  Jack saw Barbossa and ran to catch up with the other teen.  Barbossa grinned at him.

"Not used to solid ground, are ye?" he asked.  "Get too used tuh the rocking of th' ship… no matter, though.  It'll get easier with time," Barbossa assured him.  "Now, let's go – Cap'n's right; there's plenty tuh do in Tortuga.  Never a dull moment!"

"Where d'we start?" Barbossa grinned.

"I'd give ye the tour meself, but I've got someone t'find—"

"—Yer lover," Jack supplied helpfully.  Barbossa coughed.

"Hn. Don't call her that; she's a respectable lass, she is."

"What's she doing with a pirate, then?"

"Just shut yer mouth, you. Anyway, y'ought to go 'ave a look around on yer own. Just don't go gettin' in any fights." He paused, then pointed to a crowded-looking building on their left.  "When y'get tired of wandering around, make yer way there. Ah'll meet up with ye."

"Aye, I'll do it. Although," Jack pretended to scowl, "Ye're a pretty lousy friend, leavin' me on my own…" Barbossa snorted.

  
            "Come off it; ye'll be fine!"

"How d'you know? I could get shot, or drowned, or—"

"What d'you mean, how do I know? You said it yerself – you're Jack Sparrow, 'savvy?'!"  Jack couldn't help but preen.

"True enough," he smirked.  Barbossa cuffed him in the shoulder.

"Enough id'ling about; you've got yer work cut out for ye."

And with that, the friends parted ways.

~*~*~

            Jack made his way from the crowded port to the impossibly more-crowded marketplace.  He glanced around himself, taking in the sights and sounds of this 'Tortuga', taking note of certain buildings and watching the teeming mass of people.  More than just a few of them appeared to be drunk, just as Jack had expected.

            However, he took particular interest in the various venders lining the street.  In his old home, which now had become like a distant ache to him, there had never been so many things to buy.  Their market had been small; they couldn't import things, for fear of being found-out by the British.  But the market of Tortuga was overflowing with exotic food, clothing, jewelry, and people.  Jack imagined that this place must be a mixture of every culture in the world.

            As he approached a bread-vender, Jack suddenly saw a blurred figure dash off to his right, but before he could focus on the person, they'd disappeared into the throng.

            'That was odd…' he thought as he passed the aforementioned vender, the owner of which looked ready to dismember someone.  Jack scurried past, not making eye-contact with the obviously-disgruntled merchant.  As he slowed his pace, he felt the crowd around him stir strangely.  A furious voice rose over the din.

            "Stop, ye dirty rotten crook!"

            Jack looked up, blinking, at the commotion behind him; the man he'd just passed in front of the bread-vender was shaking his fist, yelling, cursing, and running – straight for Jack.  Jack's eyes widened, and he dashed into the throng of the square.  He could hear the shopkeeper tearing after him, and he fled into an alley.

            Panting, Jack leaned against the wall, listening.  The shouts of 'Ye mangy thief, I'll wring yer neck!' faded out under the din of the crowd.  Jack sighed in relief, but started once more as he heard a voice behind him.

            "Jesus bloody Christ! Bloody 'keep needs his eyes checked, I'll wager; mistakin' me for a bloody girl!"

            Jack whirled around, the beads in his hair clinking angrily.  There, behind him, perched precariously on a barrel, was a teenage boy with dark hair cropped to his shoulders and held back with a piece of string.  The boy was smirking at Jack from his position atop the barrel.  As he caught sight of Jack's face, the smirk dropped and a look of shock replaced it.

            "Good Lord! The lass is a lad! Well now…"

            "What d'ye mean, calling me a lass?! Don't you know who I am?!" Jack asked incredulously. He knew full-well that the boy HADN'T heard of him – only the ship's crew HAD – but he also knew that he needed to put on a show if he was going to beat this one…

            The dark-haired teen raised an eyebrow.  "Never seen ye around Tortuga, miss… ter."  Jack bristled.  Drawing himself to his full 5'2" height, he proclaimed, swinging his arms in emphasis, "Me name's Jack Sparrow! Remember it well, lad – ye'll be hearing it up and down the Spanish Main one day!"  To his great annoyance, the thief-child chuckled at him.

            "Will I, now? Don't look very awe-inspirin' t'me…"

Jack felt his anger come to a head; he'd suffered enough teasing from his older shipmates over the past months, and this complete stranger was cracking jokes about his looks.  Barbossa's training was fresh in his mind, and a sudden burst of over-confidence filled him.  He knew just how to take this brat off his high-horse…

Drawing his sword from its sheath, Jack brandished the weapon at the boy. "Why don't ye try t'say that when ye're missing yer tongue!"

The other 'tsk'ed at him and, hopping down from the barrel, drew a sword of his own.

"Bit brash, aren't you, Miss – pardon – MISTER Sparrow? It IS Sparrow, isn't it?" the boy asked. He sounded bored. "Shame the blighter thought y'were me; I like to think I'm more of a man than… well…" he used his sword to motion at Jack.  Jack was seething.

"Shut your mouth and fight me, if ye're such a man," he admonished.  The other merely shrugged.

"You're funeral."

At once, the two sprang forward.  The short-haired boy was, Jack noted darkly, taller than him by several inches but then again, so was his usual sparring-partner.  They traded and blocked the first few blows.  The thief seemed bothered by something.

"Who the blazes taught you how t'use a sword, Sparrow?" he asked, for a moment forgetting to taunt.

"Me best friend," Jack growled between blows and parries.  "Why?"

"Never taught ye the Rules of Engagement, did he? Your footwork is absurd!"

Confused by this statement, Jack temporarily lost his concentration, and suddenly, he found himself backed against a wall with a blade to his chest.  Panting heavily, he closed his eyes, wondering what death might feel like.  He couldn't help thinking of Barbossa's earlier words about him being fine, and a thought flit through his head: 'Told you so.'

"I'm not going t'kill you."

Jack's eyes snapped back open; the boy sheathed his sword.  "Why not? You beat me!"  The taller boy frowned.

"Consider it repaying my debt."  At Jack's confused look, the boy sighed.  "I set you up," he said, "with that vender. I waited until y'were in his vicinity, took what I needed, and ran. All right? So now we're even – you helped me, I spared you. We're square."

Jack hadn't noticed how poor the boy looked until that moment, but as the latter pulled the stolen bread from his pocket and began to devour it, Jack suddenly felt guilty for giving him a hard time.  'He probably hasn't eaten in quite some time,' he thought, watching the taller boy and noting how thin he looked.  He cleared his throat, and the other looked at him questioningly, if not slightly embarrassedly.

"I'd like t'try this again," Jack said, feeling a bit awkward.  When the boy only blinked at him, he held out his hand. "I'm Jack Sparrow; good to meet ye."  The boy smiled warmly and shook Jack's hand.

"The name's William Turner, but you're welcome t'call me Bill. Good t'meet you too, Jack."

_End Notes: Whee! Another chapter, another character, and HOPEFULLY another surprise for at least some of you._

_Hope everybody's well and good and NOT coming down with colds and stuff!  Have a great holiday; I'll try to get chapters 9 and 10 out over Christmas-break from school. Break… can't wait…_* . *

_As always: please review!_


	9. Meeting Mela

_Author's Notes: Okay, after months of inactivity, I finally FINALLY finished chapter 9. So so so so sorry for the wait.  I lost track of time; I had no intention of waiting this long.  Got this done JUST in time for Aithne's birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY AITHNE!!!)._

_But again, I'm terribly sorry for the wait, and subsequently, the shortness of this chapter.  It was going to be longer until I decided I wanted the next part to be in a separate chapter because it would have seemed kind of anti-climactic if it was in this one._

_So yeah.__  Started writing chapter 10 last night.  Soon as I'm done writing my Yu-Gi-Oh fic, which will be done by the 20th, then I'll tackle the remainder of chapter 10 and get it up ASAP.  I'm on April break, so I should be able to get it out no later than the end of the week._

_Thanks to everyone for being so patient with me. T . T  I'm not usually this bad, I swear.  I'm not used to having a huge chapter-fic to update…_

**Chapter 9: Meeting Mela**

            Jack hauled his newest companion through the crowded streets toward his meeting spot with Barbossa.  The latter of the pair wondered, darkly, how much longer his arm could take the abuse.

In the aftermath of their initial encounter and their secondary introduction, the two had gotten to talking.  When Bill had discovered that Jack was a pirate, the urchin had seen an opportunity to escape the streets and, not being one to pass up such an enticing (not to mention beneficial) chance, he had immediately inquired whether or not Jack's captain was accepting new shipmates.  Jack, unsure of a definitive answer, had concluded that they had better consult Barbossa on the matter, and so the act of Jack's towing of the older boy began.

"Here we are!" the braided-boy said cheerfully as they approached the tavern.

Swinging the doors open with a flourish, Jack tugged Bill into the dimly-lit building.  Instantly, the two were assaulted by a cloud of smoke and the stench of alcohol.  Jack visibly winced at the unfamiliarity of the atmosphere.  Bill, long used to Tortuga's air, was unbothered by the change.

At that moment, Jack caught sight of his friend; Barbossa saw him as well, grinned, and motioned his shorter comrade over.  When Bill hesitated, Jack tugged on his arm, eliciting a grunt of protest from the other.

"C'mon, Bill – that's Barbossa. He'll be able t'answer your questions."

"Is he the one that taught y'to duel?"  Jack blinked at the question.

"Aye, he is," he responded.

"I don't know that I ought t'be meeting 'im," Bill said, his eyes glinting.

"Why not?!" Jack asked incredulously.

"Because I think I'll 'ave t'tell him off for not teachin' ye the Rules."

They chuckled amongst themselves as they approached Barbossa's table.  They seated themselves as Barbossa ordered a round of drinks, and then he turned to Jack.

"Goin' t'introduce me to your friend, Jack?"

After exchanging names, Jack regarded the two carefully, wondering how – if – they would take to each other.  He shifted nervously as they stared each other down.

'Come on,' he thought, getting upset by the lack of conversation.  'One of you… say SOMETHING!'

"I've got a question to ask you."  Bill finally broke the tense silence.

"Let's see if I 'ave an answer, then," Barbossa proposed, eyeing the urchin warily.  Bill took a deep breath.

"Might your captain be in the market for new add'tions t'his crew – rather, is he taking on new members?"  Barbossa blinked and looked at Jack, who returned the look with hope in his brown eyes.

Their drinks arrived, then, and Barbossa took a swig of his.  "Ah'll see what I can do – Bill, is it?"  At the newcomer's nod, Barbossa grinned.  "I s'pose if Jack's taken a liking to ye that I'll 'ave a tough time getting rid of ye…" he leaned closer and spoke in a stage whisper, "T'be honest, I could use the extra help. Little whelp's tough to look after."

"HEY!" Jack cried out indignantly as the other two laughed at their younger companion.  As their laughter subsided, a feminine voice broke through the air.

"What's all this frivolity about, now, Barbossa? And who be these friends of yours? You'll introduce me to them, I'm sure—"  The rest of the young woman's words were cut off as Barbossa leapt from his seat, grabbed the girl and twirled her around.  She laughed – a bubbly, girlish laugh, if ever Jack had heard one, and he knew immediately that this must be Mela.

"This your girl, Barbossa?" Bill asked cheekily, grinning fully when Barbossa and the girl flushed slightly.  Barbossa cleared his throat.

"Mela, love, I'd like fer y'to meet me friends Jack Sparrow," he motioned to Jack with one hand, "and Bill Turner," he motioned to Bill with the other.  "Jack, Bill, meet my lass – Mela."

The newly introduced trio murmured their greetings, and Mela joined them at the table.  While she and Barbossa caught up on the events since their last separation, Jack used the opportunity to take-in Mela's appearance more fully.

She was only a few centimeters shorter than Barbossa, with olive-colored, smooth skin that indicated that she did not spend much time out in direct sunlight.  As expected, her hands were unblemished as well, a sure sign that she was of high enough standing that she was above doing menial labor.  Her eyes were dark black; her hair was of similar color and hung to just above her shoulders.  But perhaps more striking than even her appearance was the dress she wore.  It was purple – a color reserved only for the wealthy due to the dye's great expense.  That, combined with the rest of her features, told Jack instinctively that a woman such as Mela should not, for any point or purpose that he could fathom, be in such a place as Tortuga, consorting with a pirate.

And yet, there she was.

As he pondered this oddity, a second round of drinks was ordered.  And a third.  Pretty soon they were talking and laughing merrily, as if the four of them had been friends for years.  All thoughts of the young woman's social standing were forgotten as Bill asked Barbossa, in a bit of a stupor, whether Barbossa and Mela were planning to marry.  The couple blushed furiously and Barbossa said that they hadn't really talked about it.

"Shame," Bill said, his voice slurring a bit, "Th' two of ye'd make a grand couple, I think. What say you, Jack?"  Jack nodded his head in agreement, feeling a bit woozy, and Bill started drilling Mela about what kind of wedding she'd want to have.  Jack had never had this much to drink before – but if he was going to be a pirate, he supposed he'd have to learn how to deal with it…

Finally, Mela jumped up from her chair.  Swaying slightly, she proclaimed, "I'm going for a walk! It's a lovely night, and we've been cooped-up in here for hours. Who's coming?"  Barbossa rose and took her arm, pointedly ignoring Bill and Jack as they 'awww'ed at the display.

"C'mon ye idle-headed louts, she's right – we've been here long enough. Time fer a change o' scenery."  With that, Barbossa led Mela out into the evening air, and the other two followed quickly after.

The party made their way, laughing and stumbling, to the port.  Mela had expressed a want to look out at the stars over the sea, and so they would.  Jack couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so full of life.  They reached the cliffs at the end of the beach and sat down to watch the sky, which was quickly darkening.  As the salty air and spray from the water whipped around them, Jack felt at peace.  This was his new life – the sea was his new life.  His mother had always told him that she'd known since the day he was born that he reminded her of the sea.  It was why she had named him as she had, and he was certain that it had a lot to do with why she had told him to flee to the port rather than to flee inland.  The thought brought him comfort, and he smiled as the voices of his friends interrupted his thoughts.

"Look!" Mela cried, pointing at something above the horizon.  The others followed her gaze, and they saw that she had discovered the night's first star.  "Make a wish," she told them excitedly.  Bill looked suspicious.

"Isn't that a bit childish, Miss Mela? Wishin' on stars?"  The girl laughed.

"It may be, but I'm still going to do it!"  She closed her eyes, and Jack saw Barbossa do the same.  Bill glanced at Jack, who shrugged, and the two of them closed their eyes as well.  What to wish for…

He thought for a while, listening to the wind blow and the waves crashing against the rocks.  And finally, he knew what he wanted.

'I wish for freedom.'

That was the wish within his heart – to be free from everything.  Free from the confines of society and land and rules and anything else.  He wanted to be under his own command.  He wanted to go where he wanted to go, and to do what he wanted to do, and not have to answer to anyone.  Being a pirate was still restrictive, but as far as he was concerned, it was at least a step in the right direction.

The others opened their eyes a few moments later, having made wishes of their own, and the quartet leaned back to look at the sky.  They could hear, faintly, the hustle and bustle of Tortuga – even at night, the town was alive with sound.  Some tavern or another had opened its doors, and piano music drifted to their ears.  Jack grinned at Barbossa over Mela's head.

'Dance with her,' he mouthed.  Barbossa nodded, then said something quietly to the girl.  He stood and took her hand.  Bill gave Jack an inquisitive glance.

"Let's give them some time to themselves," he whispered.  Bill nodded in understanding, and the two snuck off, moving back toward the docks.

When they were out of ear-shot, Bill gave Jack a big smirk.  "They're so cuuuuute," he drawled, imitating Mela's voice as best he could.  Jack snickered.

"Don't be a prat, Bill. We can find plenty to do without them."

"I should think so," Bill commented.  "Let's go see what's bein' loaded onto that large ship o'er there," he added, pointing to a silhouette to their right.  Jack agreed, and they went to take a closer look.

"Eh, looks like ordinary cargo," Bill murmured.  "That's no fun t'all."  Jack shrugged.  After a pause, Bill asked, "D'you think Barbossa can get in a good word or two fer me with the cap'n?"

"I don't see why he couldn't," Jack replied.  Bill seemed hell-bent on getting into the crew.  Jack supposed he was probably tired of Tortuga.  "Don't worry," he assured him.  "I'm not leavin' here without you."  At Bill's look of surprise, he raised an eyebrow.  "What kind of lousy friend d'you take me for?"  Bill chuckled.

"I s'pose you're right, Jack, but I still worry about being stuck here."

"Well quit worryin'. It's not doin' either of us any good. Now," he gave Bill a pointed look, "there's got to be more to this place than a tavern, a market, a dock, and some rocks. Show me around, would ye?"  Bill laughed, and started back towards the market.

"C'mon, then, Mister Impatient. I'll show you around, for certain, but I'll be givin' you no guarantee that there IS any more to Tortuga than those things yout mentioned."  He gave Jack a look.  "Why else d'ye think I want out?"

The two walked off in the direction of all the noise from earlier, and Jack smiled to himself.  Yes, freedom.  He could get used to this…

_End Notes: So there you have it.  Introduced Mela, girl of the purple dress. *hint*hint*cough* HAPPY BIRTHDAY (again) AITHNE!!!  Hope you liked your present.  I'll get right on chapter 10 when I'm finished with the other fic that I've got a deadline for.  ^_^_


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